


Untitled Yuletide Fic: Madness Edition

by runicmagitek



Category: AO3, Dreamwidth - Fandom, Untitled Goose Game (Video Game)
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, Even More Literal Fanfic Problems, Gen, Humor, Internet, Questionable Human Anatomy of Video Game Character(s), Satire, Sequel, Yuletide Treat, Yuletide was not actually harmed in the making of this fic, but the fate of this poor town is now questionable, oh no I'm back on my bullshit, that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: It's up for debate whether it's still another lovely year for the Yuletide Exchange, and you are wondering where the heck did everything go when the goose dropped it out of the internet.A companion piece/pseudo-sequel toUntitled Yuletide Fic.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 27
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2019





	Untitled Yuletide Fic: Madness Edition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hangingfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangingfire/gifts).



> While going over Untitled Yuletide Fic with my boyfriend, he asked where did all the stuff the goose dropped through the internet go. And then I had an idea and I'm not even sorry.
> 
> Probably (hopefully?) makes sense without having read [**Untitled Yuletide Fic**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949204), but legit, even _that_ made no sense, so you're guess is as good as mine.

It was yet another lovely day in the town—which was sort of unfortunate, because that’s exactly how the last story began, but at least this isn’t a direct-to-video sequel—and the goose was nowhere to be found. Socks were left untouched. Vegetables actually grew without being rolled out for a picnic. The tidy neighbor’s fence stayed fixed. And the bell dwelled in the model town for more than twenty-four hours—a new record!

The locals both longed to gossip about the goose and not mention anything out of fear the goose would show up. The first bit was due to all communication done via thought bubbles or whatever scribbles appeared over their heads. Also they had no mouths. Huh, that means they also can’t eat… so why is there a pub or a gardener? Geez, maybe the goose was the most normal one out of the bunch. But thankfully, because of the lack of mouths, there was no chatter, thus no goose would appear behind the locals as if a mere thought summoned it.

And while the town agonized over this new developed, it meant no one paid attention to that wimp of a boy wandering off. Without his glasses. _Yet again._

You’d think the shopkeeper would have given him a pair out of pity so he’d stop walking into walls, but _no_ , some people are just Like That.

Anyhow, the wimp blindly meandered the town, arms stretched and eyes narrowed. Wait a tick… no one in this town has eyes, either. What is this abomination of a horror show these people live in? Why does this kid need glasses?! Maybe they see through their huge noses. That would actually explain a lot. But let’s hope they don’t eat through them. Welp, enjoy _that_ mental image. Moving along.

The wimp waded through water and mud, unaware of the pond he trekked through. He stumbled over a collapse fence and then a fallen log, which was honestly par for the course with this kid and we’d be more worried if he _didn_ _’t_ do that.

Then something crunched beneath his foot. He perked up and dropped to his hands and knees, pawing around for whatever he stepped on. Holding the crushed metal frames two inches from his face, he recognized this—it was his glasses! He tried to un-crush them, which honestly made the thing even worse, and slipped them on. Once his non-existent eyes focused, he jerked back.

There were dozens upon dozens of glasses stacked there. All of them his. All of them stolen by a particular, horrible goose.

And there were plenty of other things, too: the gardener’s radios, the shopkeeper’s cash register, the tidy neighbor’s newspapers, the messy neighbor’s easel and paint collection, and half of the publican’s dining tables and chairs. Honestly, it was hard to be mad at that last one; that was just impressive.

But if this was where the goose brought everything… then where was the goose?

A _thud_ sounded behind the wimp. He flinched and covered his head, only to realize nothing was dooming his existence. He scouted the area and came across one oddity he hadn’t noticed before—a sculpture of a pixelated dinosaur nestled in the grass.

He perched a hand on his hip and rubbed his chin. How strange. It looked just like the page that popped up when his Internet browser couldn’t find a connection. Where had the goose found this?

Then he caught it from the corner of his eye: a black hole expanding over the ravine. It spat out something before vanishing and a placard crashed and rolled to the wimp’s feet.

He bent down and picked it up, adjusting his glasses to read it, despite having no means to do so. And in this moment, things pertaining to the goose and its ability, or inability, to read made a whole lot of sense.

The placard detailed something about a blip in a community called yuletide_admin. And the layout was closer to a blog post than anything the wimp ever saw hung up on a wall before. Upon reaching the end, the wimp froze upon making a single realization—whoever this was spoke of anarchy the town knew all too well.

Either that or some online troll _really_ liked making posts about honking.

Then the earth trembled. The wimp dropped the placard and looked around. Earthquakes? In _this_ tiny town?! It was forever sunny and daytime there! What was he supposed to do?!

Before the wimp could react, the black hole opened again and spewed forth the Yuletide collection from AO3.

Not just a single year’s contributions— _all of it_. Every year, from madness to resolutions.

The wimp flailed and tried to run away from the tsunami of fics gushing out. He tripped and cowered. There was no stopping it. Gen and ships intertwined. Fandoms never meant to crossover melded until they were one. Enemies became lovers and then enemies again and then sort of friends and then totally lovers for sure. There was fake dating and only one massive bed and roommates galore. Fluff and angst fought for dominance. Thousands upon thousands—if not millions—of words inscribed on placards and paper and plaster and whatever else you want to write on that begins with the letter P flooded the goose’s abode and surged onward.

And within that decadent mess, the wimp broke the surface of found family and hurt/comfort fics and caught his breath. The torrent of fics was making its way to town, where everyone was worried about where the goose was. And they had no idea what was coming. And he had no mouth to scream for help or anything.

And at least he got his glasses back.


End file.
